"Sólo sé que nunca sabre nada, de lo que hay oculto en tu mirada!"
I stood in the kitchen doorway, watching her and fighting a smile. It seemed like I was always laughing or grinning around Monica - not that I'm complaining. It's just...different. Monica moved from the sink to the stove, while I admired the way her khaki shorts fit. "Nice outfit," I said, crossing the room to rest my hand on her back.
Monica leaned back against my hand, turning her head to grin at me. "Sorry I missed you this morning. Scully and I left early to buy clothes," she said, glancing at my new outfit. I'd found it that morning on the bed when I got back from my run. "I guess by the time you got back, I was already down here."
"Yeah, I missed you in the shower," I deadpanned.
"You did not," Monica laughed. "You hate sharing the hot water."
The CD player in the corner turned to a new song and graced us with an upbeat rhythm. As Monica worked her magic on the ancient stove, she began to sing to me, dancing in my embrace as best she could. "Puede que me esté volviendo loco, pero es que no entiendo qué te pasa. Puede que me esté volviendo loco, pero es que no entiendo qué te pasa."
I could get used to this Spanish thing. When Monica speaks her native language, her entire demeanor changes. Her voice takes on this airy quality, and her body relaxes. I could tell by the way she was leaning against me that she was kind of lost in the music. I wrapped my arms around her waist to support her better, and kissed the back of her neck. She laughed softly, the laugh that told me if we weren't in a public place, I'd be repaid for that kiss. Instead, she kept singing, as she worked on our breakfast. "Puede que me esté volviendo loco, pero es que no entiendo qué te pasa. Puse mi mundo en tus manos; Si te mueves yo me caigo. Mi mundo en tu mano, mi mundo en tu mano."
I allowed myself to think for just a second how much I loved her; how she took care of me and let me protect her, how beautiful she was, inside and out. If I dwelled on it, I'd disappear in the thoughts and never get anything accomplished, ever. As it was, I was starting to get antsy. "What's that song about?" I asked, to make conversation.
"It's about how this man put his world in his lover's hands. Now he's saying, 'I will never know anything about what's hidden in the way you look at me. I might be going mad, but I just don't understand what is happening to you.' I know how he feels," Monica teased. "I can tell you're distracted by something. What's wrong, John?" she asked, her tone growing serious.
I shrugged, holding Monica a little closer to me. I couldn't put words to the feeling, it was just a persistent nagging doubt about...something. I wasn't even sure what it was about. "I'm just itching to do somethin'. I can't stand sittin' around."
"Me, either," Mulder said from the doorway. He had a grin that said he caught my hand in the cookie jar.
Pulling away from Monica reluctantly, I strode over to the table and sank down. "I know we've gotta wait, I just don't like it."
Monica turned from the stove, a sizzling pan in her hand. "Well let me distract you, Agent Doggett." She heaped the food onto four plates and put the skillet in the sink. Going to the doorway, she called, "Dana! Breakfast is ready!"
When Scully entered the kitchen with William on her hip, I was struck by the thought that the five of us were somehow a family. We were an odd family, to be sure, but there it was. We trusted each other with our lives, and loved each other - even Mulder and I shared a deep respect based on shared experiences.
Peering at the food in front of me, I tried to sound lighthearted as I asked, "What'sa matter, Monica, they don't make omelets down here?" I was rewarded with a playful smack on the arm.
"John, where's your adventurous spirit?" Monica grinned, slipping into the seat beside me. "They're called Huevos Rancheros. My mother taught me her recipe when I was tiny," she said, using her fork to point to my plate. "It's just a flour tortilla with sauce, fried eggs and cheese, and I went easy on the jalapenos for you and William. C'mon, I know you love fried eggs," she added.
"Try it, John," Scully said, offering a forkful of the stuff to William. "See, even William likes it."
"Okay, okay," I said, giving in with a grin. "You win."
"I always do. I got you, didn't I?" Monica whispered, before digging in to her breakfast.
I shook my head as I grinned again. I had never smiled as much in my life as I had since I first kissed Monica Reyes. I'd never before felt as happy as I did just being in the same room with her. For the moment, I felt like a normal guy, in a normal relationship, with normal friends, living a normal life.
I
should've recognized that feeling as the harbinger of doom.
* * *
We made our plans over the next few days, solidifying the details. I came
to realize, despite my initial resistance, that Mulder was right: Monica and I
had to be their inside contacts, there were no two ways about it.
The wretched feeling in my gut wasn't going away. Something just didn't fit; there was a tiny piece of the puzzle somewhere that I was missing. I put my instinct to the side, promising myself I'd address it later. That was my first mistake.
Sitting at the kitchen table, we discussed the plans quietly and I watched Monica write quickly on her ever-present pad. Skeptical, I told her quietly that writing this down might not be a good idea. Turning the pad toward me with a wry smile, Monica let me read the list. I kicked myself mentally, murmuring, "Sorry." *Of course, she's not dumb.* She'd jotted what appeared to be fake notes about times and places, modes of transportation and thrown in a couple of phony bank account numbers for good measure.
"It's okay." Monica smiled and handed Mulder her list. "I had a thought. We do kind of stand out, and they're eventually going to find out we are, or were, here. So when we leave, we need to leave a paper trail, and make it look like we tried to disguise it." She rushed on as Scully started to interrupt her. "You two are buying plane tickets to Switzerland. You'll have a contact set up there, as well as a bank account," she pointed to the row of numbers. "Everything will be done via a secure connection on the Internet."
"Nothing's secure," Mulder protested, his face drawn in lines of confusion.
"Exactly. I want them to find out you bought tickets on SwissAir for Friday night. I want them to find the bank account the funds were drawn from, and who you're meeting in Zurich."
I began to understand and nodded my approval. "She's right. That way you can slip out of Mexico under the radar. While they're searching planes to Switzerland, you'll be under assumed names on another flight."
"To Italy," Monica supplied, casting me an appreciative look.
"Why Italy?" Scully asked.
"Non-extradition country," Mulder supplied immediately. "I'm wanted for murder," he reminded us, though we couldn't forget. "If they find us, we need to be someplace safe. Italy won't send me back to the US unless they agree to waive the death penalty."
Scully nodded, then asked, "But what about you?" She gestured to Monica and me. "How are you going to get back to DC?" We'd discussed what to do when we got there, but it seemed that was putting the cart before the horse.
"I thought about that, and I think the best way is to get caught."
"Reyes, are you insane?" I turned to Monica, stunned momentarily. She'd had great ideas this far, though, so I figured she must have something up her sleeve.
"No," Monica said firmly. "I think the only way we're going to convince Fulmer and the others that we regret helping Mulder and Scully escape is if think they've caught us in the act. In fact, a public arrest would be best. In an airport, maybe, or as we try to cross the border. They'll take us back to DC, interrogate us, and we'll 'crack' under the pressure."
"And they're not going to kill you on sight because..." Scully trailed off, a question in her jaded tone.
Monica smiled. "Because we're going to have William with us."
Scully's response was a reverberating "No!"
Mulder took the time to hear her out, albeit with a dubious tone. "Why's that gonna stop them? Scully said the Consortium tried to have him killed twice already."
Monica seemed to be thinking of this part as we went, her tone thoughtful. "Well, that's when they thought you and Scully were going to expose them." Turning to Scully, she emphasized, "They *want* him now, Dana. He's the miracle child they've been striving for, and if they think you and Mulder have abandoned him to save yourselves, and we're his guardians, they'll welcome us with open arms."
Scully seemed a little less doubtful when she said, "I still want more details. This is my son, and I refuse to put him in any more danger than we already have. I need to know you and Agent Doggett can protect him." Her arms closed around her chest as if she were holding her son, who was upstairs asleep.
"We can," I promised. "And we're gonna get him to you as soon as we can, right Monica?" She nodded, reaching for my hand. "By this time Saturday, you'll be free," I told Mulder and Scully. I still felt a vague trepidation in the back of my mind, but convinced myself it was just pessimism. *Everything will work out if we follow the plan*, I told myself.
THE END
